Full Circle
by Ekkah
Summary: Gerald of the Obsidian Circle is very powerful, very cunning and very bored. Obeying Black Arthur takes patience but the young blonde magician he has been assigned to watch just might be a kindred spirit and just might need help. Spoilers for full book.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N Welcome to Full Circle_

_FC is a multi-chapter TDL fanfic based around the magicias Gerald and Jamie. There will be slash, definite Gerald/Jamie and possible Jamie/Seb._

_FC may also make reference to Sorceror and Stone, a short story by SRB which can be found on her livejournal page (sarahtales)_

_Thanks to Mathsnerd for beta-ing. This fic is dedicated to the marmfish and 3 o'clock in the morning (:_

_-Ekkah_

One

All magicians have their own way of summoning demons. Some do it in rhyme; some find some ancient tongue and practice their lines for days. They spread salt over their circles, they sang out loud, they danced like market-people (though with fewer fleas), and waved their arms as though the demons were attracted to anyone making a fool of themselves.

Black Arthur never set up his own circles. He sent his minions into the room and once they'd drawn his circle, prepared the magic, and – basically – summoned the demon for him, he pushed through the double doors (both at once, horribly ostentatious), clapped his hands together, and called the demon's name once. Like a teacher calling on an errant child.

Gerald had his own preferred method and as he stepped back from a crudely chalked circle to lean on the window ledge of the horrible run-down old house Arthur had sent him to because circle leaders couldn't possibly endure a house without central heating he employed it. "Anzu," he called, with the weary tones of one who had done this many times before. "Get your ass down here."

Some demons appeared to their magicians as smoke, with thunderclaps, displaying their power. These days, Anzu just appeared in the middle of the circle. He was a tall winged man with a hooked nose that Gerald didn't find attractive in the slightest. "You called," he said, smiling wickedly.

"How's home?" Gerald asked, moving away from the window towards the door. He had a job to do.

Anzu was looking down at where he was standing. "The circles are bigger there," he said unnecessarily. "Also prettier."

Gerald sighed and leant against the wall, apparently to get any information they were going to have to 'chat.' Gerald hated chatting; he saw no point in all this meaningless meandering around a point. "Prettier how?" he asked, trying to pretend he hadn't had this conversation every other time Arthur had sent him to summon Anzu away from the circle.

"Well," Anzu began, examining his circle closely. "They're not wonky, for a start."

"How's home?" Gerald repeated.

Anzu grinned. "I just told –"

"See you later." He pulled open the door and stepped through, slamming it shut on Anzu's half-started reply. Maybe the demon would be more forthcoming after being trapped in the circle alone for a few hours.

After all, nothing ever changed back at the House. Arthur would be leading the others like a pretentious owner with a particularly callous pack of dogs and bragging to anyone who would listen about his genius before sending Gerald off to get him tea or some other equally mundane task that revealed just how little he knew about Gerald's power.

Like this assignment, for example. Watch the boy. Like the boy ever did anything _worth_ watching. Well, maybe worth Charles watching or worth Mark watching. Nothing worth Gerald's time.

But Gerald was nothing if not obedient, at least for now. So he fetched tea, he lived in the wreck of a house and he shook himself into bird form to fly towards the boy's school and watch him fail English for the third time this week.

Nicholas Ryves – Hnikarr, as Arthur still insisted they call him – was being spectacularly uninteresting today. Gerald kept himself awake by calling insults at the local crows. The game was even more fun if he pretended each one was Black Arthur in disguise.

He glanced back at his quarry only to discover the classroom had emptied while he was distracted and the demon had vanished off somewhere. Great. Now he had to put effort in, he might have to use a fifth, maybe even a _tenth_ of his skills. No wonder Arthur sent someone so highly qualified. He spread his wings to take off –

And almost fell out of the tree as magic flashed across all five senses. The crow opposite him let out the closest thing crows have to a laugh.

Gerald responded with the closest thing crows have to a swear word and took to flight successfully, this time prepared for the weaker flash and ready to hone in on it.

_There!_ It wasn't hard to track, wasn't shielded at all. The only protection was the fact that it was so weak you would have to be as close as Gerald was to feel anything at all. A demon's magic – even a restrained, weak demon – wouldn't be _that_ weak.

That ruled out Nick. But it had definitely been real magic, which ruled out the pathetic trinkets the 'brothers' picked up from the Market.

Were another group of wizards honing in? Surely no wizard that weak would make the mistake of attempting to swipe Black Arthur's property. Gerald banked sideways, tracing the remnants of magic around the back of the school building to where a crowd of large boys were crowded around something.

The scene was easily recognisable from all Gerald's time at school. Sure, he'd never actually been _in_ the middle, but he'd seen it happen. He'd never really felt the urge to help; bullies, victims, they all alienated _him_ in the same way. The victim of these bullies was even less his concern.

He just needed to work out which large, bulky guy from the group of large bulky guys was his magician.

He perched on a bin and waited for another flash of magic.

"How're you feeling, _Crawford?_" one of the boys called, as the others cheered him on. "Gonna get your boyfriend to come rescue you?"

Through a small gap in the boys, Gerald caught sight of blonde hair and a flash of silver. An _earring_, so it wasn't like the boy even tried to hide it.

Gerald had never come out to his circle. He wore conservative clothes, agreed non-committaly to all Arthur's Olivia-fantasizing, and didn't tell anyone about the incident when Anzu possessed someone who could have passed for attractive and then there was the cupboard and it was dark and, really, a mistake anyone could make.

Then it came again, the impossibly faint touch of magic which had practically run out already. But who...

And through a gap in the legs Gerald caught sight of sparks dying on the victim's outstretched fingers. Magic sparks. Sparks of magic.

The blond boy was the magician. Cowering on the floor with one arm over his head;really, he was a complete disgrace to their entire race. Why didn't he have power? Why didn't he go and find a Circle and send all these thugs back to Hell?

It was tempting to leave him to learn his lesson, but if Black Arthur found out, he might feed Gerald to Anzu and becoming a demon's vessel wasn't high on Gerald's to-do list.

Neither was using magic in range of a very powerful demon with a magic-sensing talisman, of course. Which meant Gerald had to do something several miles below his dignity and fly directly into the leader's face, squawking and flapping his wings like an animal.

It was all horribly embarrassing and with any luck no one would ever find out. He was pretty sure the bully wouldn't tell, because he pretty much turned tail and fled, his gang behind him.

Gerald dropped down beside the boy to check he was still alive. His chest was rising and falling; that would have to be good enough because his eyes were starting to open and Gerald's illusion could be picked up by another competent magic user. Maybe.

He flew away, committing the name 'Crawford' to memory and wondering if he should've stayed long enough to get a description for Arthur other than just 'blond and earringed.'

"Anzu."

Anzu looked around, the chess set he'd been, presumably, playing with solo vanishing as he caught sight of Gerald. "Had a good day?" he asked slyly.

Gerald glanced in the mirror across the room and saw that his hair was dishevelled and his eyes were full of frustration. He took a deep breath, flattened his hair with one hand and schooled his features into a more neutral expression. "Any news from home?"

"Nothing new," Anzu replied, apparently more forthcoming now. "Black Arthur wants daily progress reports."

"Black Arthur wants a lot of things," Gerald replied, before he could stop himself.

Anzu laughed and clapped his hands together. "Dissention in the ranks? Are we going to have a turf war? I love a good turf war."

Gerald schooled his face for the second time. "I intend to do no such thing and I'm sure Lord Arthur wouldn't believe you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, throwing it into the circle in one easy movement.

Anzu moved faster than any human, snatching the phone from the air before it started to fall. "Nice," he remarked appreciatively, running his claws over the iPhone's touch screen.

"If you scratch it," said Gerald. "I will end you." He tapped his fingers impatiently against his leg. "I need it charged."

A somewhat irrelevant command, as Anzu had already got the phone powered and working so he could flick through Gerald's contacts. "Do you seriously know _no one_ outside of the circle? There's this thing called a 'life' which you could do with." He grinned. "But then, why get a boyfriend when you have a demon you can send after the guy of your dreams."

Gerald didn't turn pink through force of will. He also managed to bite down on the 'that was only one time' retort which was all his mind could come up with. He did hold out his hand for the phone.

"Even Black Arthur has more contacts than you," Anzu said, not giving it back.

Gerald couldn't fight the curiosity. "Why did you have Arthur's phone?"

Anzu shrugged his wings. "Boredom, mostly." He tossed the phone back out of the circle and Gerald caught it. There was, predictably, a long scratch down the side.

If Gerald had been allowed to summon his _own_ demons he could've cast Anzu out and never summoned him again as punishment. As it was, the only thing he could do was leave the room in the hope that the demon would get bored and lonely. Unfortunately, Gerald was experiencing exactly the same things as he went downstairs to heat up a tin of something revolting and processed over a gas fire.

While he waited for the gunk to boil, he used the scratched phone to call Arthur. Unfortunately, calling Arthur involved phoning Laura (Arthur's mobile had gone missing mysteriously a while back; Gerald had never even considered asking Anzu about this until now) which would involve a long conversation about whether Gerald was getting enough vegetables.

He got through to Arthur when he was half-way through washing up in cold water. Unfortunately, talking to the circle leader required full concentration so Gerald had to dry his hands and take the levitation charm off the phone, actually holding it in his hand.

"Lord Arthur."

"Gerald," replied Arthur crisply. If Laura was rambling and incessant, Black Arthur was her polar opposite. Like Gerald, in the way that meant they couldn't really stand each other.

"I got here."

"Good."

"Found your project."

"Right."

"He still isn't using magic."

"Good."

_Maybe,_ Gerald mused, using his free hand to pull the plug out of the sink. _We could replace our Fearless Leader with a robot. _

"Have you seen Olivia yet?" he continued, predictably.

"Not yet."

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Gerald wondered if this was a good time to mention that he found Nick more attractive than his mother. Probably not. Though the thought, combined with his Moment of Weakness with Anzu raised a question about whether Gerald might be more attracted to demons...

He quashed that thought quickly. It wasn't his fault there were no attractive boys in his circle. Maybe he could date earring-boy, pass it off to Arthur as 'experimentation.' It wasn't like no one had seen the Looks between Arthur and Charles, after all.

He made a sound of agreement and changed the subject quickly. "While I was watching the boy."

"Not the boy! The demon or the Project or Hnikarr. It's not a _boy_, Gerald."

Gerald rolled his eyes, but didn't point out that 'boy' didn't necessarily mean human. He also didn't mention that sometimes Nick Ryves seemed more human than Arthur Dee had ever been. "While I was watching the demon," he said. "I felt magic. I traced it to its source."

"Did you leave the demon? You can't leave it unattended."

Gerald wondered briefly what Arthur thought his minions did at night or at meal times. He was pretty certain no one on Nick-watch had ever gone more than a few hours without leaving him unattended. "No," he lied blatantly. "I didn't leave it unattended. I traced the magic to its source and I found a magician."

"Which circle?"

"No circle. Just a boy with magic, looked about fourteen maybe? He was being beaten up."

"By? Magicians? Market folk?"

_Something worse,_ Gerald thought. "School boys," he said.

"He didn't fight them off?"

Gerald couldn't help flashing back to his own childhood, thinking that 'fighting them off' was an easy thing for someone like Arthur to say, but the reality was somewhat different. "He was weak," he said. "He didn't seem to be part of a circle, he definitely wasn't a necromancer."

"Hmm," Arthur replied. "Well, I will add this as an extra assignment for you. Laura has been telling me at great length how your talents could be used for more than a simple reconnaissance mission."

_So you're giving me _two_ reconnaissance missions. Lucky me._

"You and this boy might have a great deal in common." Gerald could _hear_ Arthur's snide smile.

Then there was a click and Gerald was once again alone in a cold house with what had to be the most surreal demon out there.

And Gerald didn't know whether to hope Earring had a happy family or to hope they were kindred spirits. _Either way, _he told himself firmly. _Fourteen is too young for a boyfriend._

He stacked his plate, pan, and spoon on the draining board and – with a sigh – headed upstairs to the best company Exeter could offer: a mobile-destroying, overly sarcastic demon.

Gerald wondered what possible crimes he might have committed in a previous life to deserve this, and fervently hoped they'd been worth it.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey! Sorry for the long gap between updates but it took me a while to work out what I wanted to happen, then a lot of procrastination while I wrote it then I failed to find a Beta._

_But it is here now! Thanks so much to Isi for beta-ing and pointing out that Gerald is far too cool to sleep on a mattress with a moth problem (:_

_So this is Full Circle chapter 2. In case you could not guess, this fic will include Slash and many pairings because really in this book anyone can get together with anyone._

_So, yes, enjoy!_

_-E_

Two

He couldn't remember his dreams but they must have been fairly impressive, because when he woke up, Gerald found he had worked it all out. He would watch the boy until he was sure he was being neglected and then he would step in, show him what true power was.

Then he could take the boy the Arthur, Arthur would ignore him, and Gerald would be his mentor. It would be like having a little brother. Well, like what he imagined having a little brother would be like.

He ran his fingers through his hair, for lack of a comb, and hunted through the small suitcase for a clean T-shirt and a pair of jeans before heading upstairs to Anzu.

"Up bright and early," the demon remarked, sitting cross legged two meters above the ground, his wings tips resting against the worn floorboards. It was past ten, but Gerald didn't comment. "Discipline. That's what I like to see."

"Shut up Anzu," said Gerald without thinking about it.

Anzu frowned. "I think you should know I'm feeling very unappreciated right now."

Gerald ran a hand through his hair and wondered if he trusted Anzu enough to magically prepare breakfast without putting poison in it.

"Hungry?" Anzu asked with a wicked smile that suggested they were really getting to know each other far too well.

Gerald made a mental note to stop visiting Anzu so much back at the mansion. It probably wasn't proper decorum for a magician to talk to his demon more than his Circle. "Not so much," he replied.

His stomach growled loudly. Anzu snickered and created a tray of various morsels in one hand, holding it right at the edges of the circle.

Gerald turned away through force of will. "We can pick up something on the way."

"We?"

Gerald kicked one of the crow corpses at the side of the room towards the demon. "Didn't I say? You're coming with me."

Anzu looked down. "In _that?_" he asked, in the same tone Black Arthur used when confronted by any item of clothing off the rack.

"In that." Gerald took a step closer to the crow and kicked it again, until it was right on the border of the circle. It was really quite disgusting.

The demon scowled, eyes turning even darker. "You owe me five top-notch bodies and a night to remember." He slid into black vapour which swirled down into the broken corpse.

Gerald looked away, spreading his own wings and double checking his plumage before turning again to see the foul creature hopping on one leg towards him.

It waved his wings in what was presumably supposed to be a murderous way. It made Gerald glad that demons possessing bodies couldn't talk.

Maybe next time he should 'accidentally' miss the communication lines off his circle.

They flew back to the school, Gerald's wings straining as he started to reach the limits of his magic. He would have to get more power from Anzu that evening, and with the demon already in a bad mood he would need the right body to offer it.

He sensed Nick's aura the moment he crossed the boundaries of the school, and from the way Anzu's head lifted and scanned around he could see the demon sensed it too.

Gerald focused further, until he could feel the small touch of magician beneath the demon's magical stink. They were together, or at least close, his blond and the demon.

Anzu was ahead, following Nick's trail, and Gerald fell into the air currents beside him as they twisted around the buildings. Eventually they landed on the branch of a tree outside a large glass window.

Nick – Hnikarr – was sitting at the back of a classroom, chair tilted on two legs as he stared mindlessly at the ceiling. The teacher – a young woman – clearly had no idea how futile trying to teach a demon to read really was.

But then, Black Arthur had thought the same about teaching a demon to talk.

The blond was in the front row. He'd changed the white shirt that had had mud on it for another one, and Gerald wondered what the point of that was when he was clearly just going to get this one dragged through the mud too. It was _lavender._

The boy turned his head towards the window and Gerald fell backwards out of the tree.

He hit the ground, and found himself not entirely sure what he was doing there. He had been in the tree... and the boy had turned and he was...

Gerald wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but he hadn't been expecting the thin face with a nervous smile. He hadn't been expecting the earring to draw attention to the face, rather than giving a target to aim at. He hadn't expected the short blonde hair to suit the boy so _well._

As a rule, Gerald avoided crushes. He found Black Arthur attractive, but beneath all the charisma and charm the man had the personality of a spade so he was easy enough to ignore. There were no other young men in the circle and while Gerald did sometimes find non-magicians attractive, it wasn't difficult to shrug it off.

He was still lying on the ground, and his feathers sticking out at odd angles, getting clogged with mud. He twisted until he could look up and saw Anzu. He had a feeling if the demon was capable of laughing, he would be.

He climbed to his feet in what must've been the least dignified way imaginable, with much squawking and flapping of wings. _Right,_ he told himself, shaking the worst of the mud off his feathers. _Right, you're going to go up there and look again and stay in the tree this time._

He flew up onto the branch, his eyes immediately drawn to the window. The blond was still looking, the nervous smile touching his mouth again as he saw Gerald settle. He didn't fall out of the tree, but he didn't find the desire to know this boy better fading either.

_There is no way he is getting away,_ he found himself promising. _One way or another, he_will_join my circle._

He followed the young magician for the rest of the day, leaving Anzu to make sure Nick didn't do anything stupid. When the blond once more headed down the same path he had been attacked on the night before, Gerald followed closely wondering if the boy was suicidal or just plain crazy.

If he had been human, he would've shouted. Something along the lines of: 'get away from here, what do you think you're _doing?'_ but he couldn't reveal his magic just yet: if the boy was part of a Circle or was a necromancer's apprentice, hiding his powers in the strangest way imaginable, Gerald could find himself in a fight, and his own magic needed replenishing if he was about to be up against a crowd of fully-juiced magicians.

He flew up and landed on a drainpipe. He waited, tense, for the moment when he would have to attack again, as strange as that would seem to the bullies.

Only, there weren't bullies coming. Not plural, at any rate. The boy Gerald would've identified as the Circle Leader of the gang was approaching Jamie alone. Only, Gerald had never known any Circle Leaders to approach a fight without several magicians and several more demons as back up.

"Hello Seb," said Blond, smiling that nervous smile again. Gerald closed his talons hard around the plastic of the drainpipe. Sure, it was cute and adorable and enough to make you melt... But he'd already fallen once today, and he forced himself to focus. "What's a guy like you doing in a place like this?"

Was this his defence method? All the powers of the universe at his command and he had decided to go with flirting? The boy – Seb – wasn't attacking right at this moment, but he was still at least six feet of tall, dark and dangerous.

Seb glanced over his shoulder. "This had better be quick, Crawford."

Gerald's blond smiled in a lightly flirtatious way that made Gerald want to grab him in his talons and remind him that no _way_ was he going near any other guys. He shook himself hard to remind himself he hadn't even _met_ the boy yet.

"Well, it's not like you need me to show you how it's done, is it?" he was moving closer and Gerald wasn't sure whether or not he could see Seb's hands close into fists.

"We can't... _do_ this."

Blond brushed a hand through his pale hair, one finger touching his earring lightly. Gerald almost fell backwards, but not quite. "Says who?"

"Jamie..." but Seb wasn't backing away anymore and his fingers were slowly unclenching and Gerald knew he _shouldn't_be wishing he could go back to when he thought Seb was going to punch _his_ magician boy.

Gerald let out a loud caw, startling both boys into looking around, and flew away before he did something he might regret. When he turned his head from a distance, the dark and blonde heads were close, too close, together, his Blond locked in the other boy's arms.

He punched the wall hard enough to break through the top layer of plaster, shaking the last few feathers from his clothing after the terrible transformation. The boy – Jamie Crawford, if _Seb_ was to be believed – was a magician. He was young, needing a teacher. He was cute, and he liked boys which was two better than all the other crushes Gerald had ever entertained.

He had a boyfriend. He had a _boyfriend_ which was one better than Gerald had managed in his entire _life,_ let alone in his school years. Why did the terrible-at-magic, unsubtle-dresser get a boyfriend and a life when Gerald was locked in the garden for daring to speak out?

He actually _snarled,_ something he wouldn't dare do if Laura or Black Arthur were around. The boy needed a circle, he needed magicians around him. Would he even listen to Gerald if he tried to explain? He must _know_ he was a magician which meant – repulsive as the idea was – he was trying to hide his magic and pass himself off as normal.

So Gerald needed a gateway. He needed some reason to bring him in, to talk to him, to gain his trust. He needed Jamie to feel rescued, to feel as though the magicians were on his side when no one else was. He needed to give a demonstration. So he needed more power. And Anzu always gave him more when he was amused, when something unexpected happened.

Everything fell into place so easily when he looked at it that he was amazed he hadn't done it at the start.

_He'll join the Circle,_ Gerald thought. _He'll join the Circle and then there won't be anyone else._

He tried not to think about the fact that he barely knew the boy. After all, he was one of the strongest magicians around and he'd only done it once and that was with a _demon._

He deserved this.

He headed upstairs to sit beside the circle, waiting for Anzu to return.

Anzu didn't even wait until he had fully materialised in the circle to start laughing. Gerald folded his arms across his chest and waited patiently until he ran out of steam.

After about five minutes Gerald's patience ran out and he clapped his hands together hard, the sound ringing out in the small room. "Shut your mouth, demon or I'll shut it for you."

Anzu pouted around a hooked nose and black, beady eyes. "I thought we had a good relationship, you and I. Now I'm not even worth a _name._" Then his frown was replaced by a grin. "Though it's worth it, your _face_ when you fell out of that tree. If I'd known you had a thing for blondes, I would've got you back in that closet sooner."

"Are you done?" he examined his fingers, because Anzu hated it when you ignored him. His nails were chipped and full of dirt. He cleaned them with magic, feeling his supply dwindling.

Anzu leered. "When's your boyfriend joining us then? I love the taste of fresh blood."

"Did anything happen with Nick... ar, while you were watching him?" Gerald asked, ignoring Anzu's comment entirely.

Anzu threw a few fireballs that fizzed out at the barrier of his circle. "Nicholas Ryves," he said, pronouncing the name as though it was a good joke he had heard. "Never does anything, whether people are watching him or not. He's like a puppy, a small pathetic puppy."

Gerald didn't laugh. He had watched Nick doing sword practice and seen his cold black eyes and there wasn't much puppy to be seen there. He forced himself to focus. "I am Gerald of the Obsidian Circle," he said. "And I have power over you."

Anzu's beak morphed into a wicked grin. "I like this part."

"I free you to walk a path from my circle to a window of my choosing in exchange for power, I pay you in blood."

"And I suppose you have just the blood in mind." He cocked his head to the side, like a bird. "What is it, someone's tired old granny? A politician who seems a bit off? A man on the street who looked at you a bit funny?"

Gerald smiled for the first time, looking into the demon's pitch black eyes. "His name is Jamie Crawford. He is sixteen, a magician, about so tall, a blond."

Anzu said nothing for a long moment, the only indication of surprise that Gerald would receive. Then he smiled again, a slow wicked smile that spread far wider than any human's ever could. "Really? You want me to mark your boyfriend?"

Gerald surveyed him coolly. "I suggest you get going before I change my mind."

Anzu vanished, and Gerald felt the power wash through him.

Gerald didn't visit Anzu when he returned. He sat on his mattress-bed, tracing lines of light in the air, watching the shining ribbons slipping from his fingers to the air like water and not thinking about Jamie Crawford with his earring. Not thinking about the fact that he'd just sent his henchman to attack the boy he fancied.

The words _just like Seb_ echoed in his subconscious, but remained unacknowledged.

Jamie deserved one mark, anyway. To compensate for his tall, dark not-quite-a-boyfriend. To remind him that life for a magician in the mortal world was pain and nightmares and something to be rescued from, never enjoyed. One mark to show him that Gerald wasn't taking him away from his home, but rescuing him from Hell.

And one mark wasn't serious. Market Folk could get rid of first tier marks by _dancing._ All Gerald would have to do was get Jamie into the house and in front of Anzu. A bit of play acting, and the gateway would be washed away. Then Jamie would be in the house, with the demon right there and then Gerald could introduce him to power and show him the world and when he leant down to kiss him, Jamie wouldn't pull away.

He lay back, extinguishing the ribbons of light with a thought and plunging the room into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to Isi for Beta-ing.

Enjoy!

* * *

Three

The next day he found himself watching Nick a lot more. If Gerald watched Nick then he didn't see the dark shadows under Jamie's eyes and the way his hand kept moving to his hip. If he watched Nick, he didn't see Anzu always watching him out the corner of his eye, waiting for him to make a mistake, to give himself away.

If he watched Nick, he could lie to himself that little bit better.

But sometimes he was distracted. He saw Jamie flinch when people brushed too close in the corridors. He saw the way he didn't look up or meet people's eyes. He saw him rest his head on his hands in class and thought now he looked more like a boy who needed to be saved. He told himself this was a good thing.

When Jamie and Nick split up, he sent Anzu after Nick. It was probably the wrong decision, but Jamie was heading back into the alleyway and he didn't trust Anzu to intervene before Seb's gang killed him.

Only – once again – it wasn't Seb's gang waiting in the alley. It was Seb, who closed his fingers around Jamie's forearm and pulled him around. Jamie was still looking at the floor. That was good. That meant he was pulling away from Seb and closer to Gerald.

"What's wrong with you?" Seb asked, trying to pull Jamie nearer.

Jamie tried to jerk his arm free but – unsurprisingly – it didn't work. "Two days in a row? What, did I win the lottery?" He pulled his arm again. "And you can let go any time now."

Seb didn't.

"Seriously, Crawford, you haven't looked up from the floor once today."

"Because you've really been watching." Jamie tugged his arm again, more a gesture than anything else it seemed.

Seb grabbed his other arm. "What's _wrong_ with you?" Then his hand moved to touch Jamie's hip and the boy jerked away hard enough to break his grip.

"What's wrong with me?" Jamie hissed. "What's wrong with me is my boyfriend beats me up more often than he kisses me. What's wrong with me is my parents don't even _look_at me anymore and my sister thinks she can run my life. What's wrong with me is I'm dreaming of... _fuck._" He slammed his hand backwards and sparks of magic shot from his fingers into the wall. Gerald pressed his wings tight against his body so he wouldn't turn them back in his arms and pull Jamie close and tell him that he didn't belong here. Parents were overrated and he didn't need them. Gerald had never needed them.

"And," Jamie finished coldly. "It's not like you really _care_."

Seb snarled and pushed him back against the wall. Gerald clenched his talons against the roof and didn't fly into Seb's face to tell him that Jamie needed a hug and needed to be pulled out of the way. "Fuck you, Crawford," the bully hissed. "Fuck you."

And Jamie raised his eyes from the ground to stare directly into the face Gerald hated completely now. "Go on then."

Gerald flew up in the air and away.

Being a bird wasn't satisfying so he found a dark alley and turned back into a human. Humans had hands, hands that could curl into fists which could punch walls. Which hurt, and didn't make anything better.

He wondered what it would take to get into a fight in this town. Perhaps he should buy himself a lavender shirt and get a piercing. Only he had more pride that that. Or it was nice to think he had more pride than that.

_This is your fault,_ said a small voice in the back of his mind. _You got him marked which made him mopey and that encouraged Seb to cheer him up._

Gerald scowled, pushing the voice away. Jamie didn't need _cheering up._ He was a magician trying to pass for a pathetic human creature. He needed rescuing and teaching. He didn't need some human pulling him aside and telling him everything was going to be okay until he started believing their _lies._

He kicked a dustbin over, strewing rubbish all over the pavement and causing an old woman to glare at him. Gerald added her to his mental list of potential demon fodder. A list that would never have Jamie on it Ever Again.

He could blast the rubbish. Burn it down to ashes and dust right here in front of her wrinkly old eyes. What would she think then? Would she run screaming of witches through the town and bring the Spanish Inquisition down upon then?

No. She would run back to her little old house filled with floral patterns. She would make herself a cup of tea in a china mug and talk herself out of the belief that magic could possibly be real. She could see it every day for the rest of her limited life and every night she would go to bed thinking her eyes were just getting worse.

It was pathetic and it was what they hid from and some magicians even tried to _join_ the human world. They tried to get jobs and act human. They did small bits of magic to make their pathetic human lives better.

And Jamie didn't even do that. He was strong enough to, surely? Just a few sparks would be enough to get the bullies to at least leave him alone. But he didn't even _try _and it was _so stupid_and –

His mobile vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, raising it to his ear without even looking at the screen. "What?"

There was a moment of silence on the line, as though whoever it was could not quite believe their over-privileged ears. "I'm sorry?" Black Arthur asked, all smooth like a cat about to pounce.

Gerald kicked some of the trash and glared at the old woman until he realised he was acting like a teenager who'd been spurned by his latest crush. He turned his back on the rubbish and the woman and walked away. "Black Arthur," he said, clipped but not actively antagonistic.

"You didn't check in yesterday. Laura was worried about you."

_Because you don't feel emotion, of course._ "I was out late," he lied. "Watching."

"Did you see Olivia at all?" Arthur asked, in the way that suggested he was preparing a sonnet or two in her honour. "Does she pine for me?"

Gerald didn't snort outwardly because one could get Possessed for that, but he did roll his eyes. "I'm sure she does, sir," he replied, which was a complete lie because from what he'd seen Olivia was just mad and didn't pine for anyone.

"Is there anything to report?"

The words _the magician got marked_ did not even reach the front of his mind. When Arthur asked for a report, you didn't tell him the truth. You told him the good news and hoped the bad would vanish soon enough. "Nothing new with the demon or the magician, sir."

"Magician?"

He should've known better than to expect Arthur to remember something that didn't revolve around Arthur and his Fantastic Plans. "I found a magician, sir. A young one. I was going to invite him to join the circle."

"_You_ were going to invite him, were you?"

Gerald cursed silently at the poor choice of words. "I was going to invite him to visit the Circle, is what I meant to say," he corrected quickly. "So you could meet him and decide. He is very, very unhappy here. The humans are giving him a hard time, he needs to escape."

"Humans," Black Arthur pronounced. "Never understand our kind. Very well, you may bring your Magician to the Circle. But only when there is another magician free to take your place watching the demon, understood?"

"Of course, sir." He hoped he didn't sound too relieved about being given more time.

"Where are you now?"

Gerald looked around the street he was on. There was a hardware store and a small shop that sold cakes but no street signs. "Outside the house, of course."

"Can they see you? You have to be careful, Gerald. I cannot afford for you to make a mistake that will ruin all of this. Laura has great faith in you, it's true, but –"

Gerald hung up on him. He would probably be made to regret it later, but he didn't need to hear Arthur telling him _again_ how much hung in the balance here. He didn't need reminding that any antagonistic behaviour towards Arthur from the demon was a direct result of _his_ failings rather than Arthur's decision to stick it in a human body then let it go and _never get it back._

Because of course, leaving the one thing you cared about – or thought you cared about – in the hands of something else that might twist them and turn them away from you was a really really bad idea.

Gerald swore, looked up and down the street, then turned into a bird again and headed back towards the school.

He thought for a moment he had missed Jamie entirely, but a quick scan for magic soon found a likely direction and after a few moments he found him, sitting on the pavement with his back against a building and his head between his knees.

Gerald landed on the pavement in front of him. A few buttons were undone on Jamie's shirt and his hair was messed up but other than that he didn't look particularly violated. Then again, Gerald had no idea how you worked out something like that. Was this an after-sex look or an after-beatings look or a completely unrelated look.

It occurred to Gerald briefly that he was totally unequipped to deal with both crushes and teenagers. He sort of wished Laura was here. But if Laura came Gerald would be asked questions he couldn't answer and Jamie would become her project and not his.

He attempted a comforting caw, but it just made Jamie look at him strangely and stand up, stretching his arms out. As he did so, his shirt raised very slightly and Gerald saw the two small lines on his hip.

He fought the urge to be sick. They could just be scratches, they could be any sort of scratches it if wasn't for the ugly, dark sensation crawling from them. They were a gateway, a path to Anzu's world. A way to let the demons in.

He flew up to the roof where he couldn't see anything other than a sandy head. He stayed high all the way home, flying high enough that Jamie wouldn't get suspicious, but low enough that he wouldn't lose sight of his prey.

He pushed down thoughts of Seb and Black Arthur. All there was now was him and Jamie. Jamie going home, and he'd said his parents didn't care about him and _boy _did Gerald know what that was like. Maybe it even made sense, with Seb. Reaching out for a connection, any connection.

He wondered if Jamie's parents knew about the magic, or if they just felt that something was inherently wrong with their son. He wondered, briefly, if they knew he was gay. He silently swore that if that was the problem, he would watch them both burn.

Jamie lived in a mansion. Gerald had never lived in a mansion. He landed on a windowsill and pushed that resentment away with all the rest. They were kindred spirits, they were orphans in a parent-filled world. Gerald watched Jamie drop his bag, call out to an empty house. Gerald flew up and stood on another windowsill while Jamie showered behind a translucent window. He continued to observe through Jamie's bedroom window while he pulled out some homework, did a few questions, then threw the books aside.

He looked away while Jamie cried. It didn't seem right to watch.

There was a sound, and Gerald heard it at the same time as Jamie. He raised his head in surprise and wiped his eyes with one arm. His mouth formed a word Gerald couldn't make out. Was it mum? Was this his mum coming home? Was she going to shut him in the back garden?

Gerald flew down before Jamie could get up, hanging on a downstairs window to see a pink haired girl drop her bag by the door and call loud enough to hear through the glass. "Jamie!" She kicked off her shoes and headed towards the stairs. "Jamie!"

Gerald flew up again, reaching Jamie's window in time to see him rubbing his eyes hard as though that would make the redness better rather that worse. "Just a minute!" he called, loud enough for Gerald to hear but apparently not loud enough for pink-hair who barreled through his door at a rate of knots.

Gerald couldn't help it; he had to know what they were saying whether Jamie could sense the magic or not.

"I said just a minute," Jamie protested, still holding his hands up to his face.

"You were supposed to meet me after debate, we were _supposed_ to walk home together." She grabbed his arms, examining them ruthlessly. "You're going to get bruises again, you _idiot._" Then she had pulled his arms down and his face was bare and it was so completely apparent that had been crying, was really still crying, that Gerald wanted to break through the window and pull him away from this pink haired monster. Gerald wanted to hold him and tell him it was going to be okay.

Then the pink haired girl let out a long sigh and wrapped her arms around Jamie, pulling him close. "You idiot," she said in a gentle, mothering way. "Just tell me who it was, Jamie. Tell me who it was and we can get something done about it."

Gerald didn't fall over, but it was a close thing. _No,_ he thought, with a violence that surprised even him. _No, he's mine. Don't you dare, don't you dare._

Jamie didn't pull out of the hug, but he did shake his head. "Just leave it, okay?"

"No, it's not okay." The girl held him at arm's length and sighed. "I just want to help you, Jamie."

_No you don't. You want to hold him down, cage him up._ Gerald flew back from the window so he wouldn't be tempted to smash it.

Jamie leant back into her arms, apparently finding comfort there, and Gerald felt an ache burning inside because the pink haired girl was holding him. Gerald couldn't remember ever being held like that. Jamie was leaning against her, trusting her, and how was Gerald supposed to pull him away from _this?_

Gerald left, before someone got hurt, flying back to Black Arthur's house faster than should've been possible. He flew in through an open window, and changed back into his magician form in the time it took to drop to a heap on the floor.

Gerald thought of Jamie kissing tall, dark boys then going home to his mansion house where a pink haired girl would hug him, cook him dinner and ask about his day. And he knew it wasn't Jamie's fault, but how dare he be _happy?_ How dare he have everything Gerald had wanted?

He didn't even realise exactly how angry he was until he was standing in front of Anzu and Anzu was hanging in the air with its back to Gerald and was saying "how did it go?" in his smarmy, mocking voice and Gerald was clenching his hands into fists and saying: "Mark him again."

The demon dropped his head to look between his legs at Gerald. "What?"

Gerald's hands shook and _this_ was why he didn't let himself get emotionally involved, why he always kept such a safe distance between life and everything else. "Go to a window, his window, whatever the words you want me to use. Just get him _marked._"

Anzu flipped around fully so he was facing Gerald, and the demon was still looking confused and not _moving._ "I suppose you want power..."

Gerald shook his head and his voice was low and cold and it scared him. "Whatever, if you like, just_go!"_

And then Anzu was finally gone and Gerald was left slamming his fists into the wall and cursing his luck and alone.


End file.
